All That Shines Is Not Truth
by Callisto-HK
Summary: Sam did miss their father and he sure did want him back; but not at the cost of Dean's life; he needed Dean more than anything else and more than ever; it was just that he'd been drunk and so very angry at their dad for keeping yet another secret from them; a secret about his destiny! And he always hated 'Be careful what you wish for! /Set in Season 2!/ Rated T for language
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** I honestly didn't think I'd ever write another Supernatural story again (especially one happening in the early seasons); not that I don't like it anymore or that I've stopped watching the show; don't think I could ever do that as long as Jensen Ackles is there to give us Dean; I just have my own reasons for not writing anymore.

Anyway, I found this unfinished story on my laptop and since I hate any unfinished work, even if it's just a fiction; I had to do something about it; didn't really matter that I haven't even posted it before leaving it there; I still couldn't stand the idea of something unfinished. So, here it is; another story; **Dean-centric but with some other characters there, as well and definitely with lots of brotherly love between Dean and Sam.**

This happens **during season 2** and I think when I started writing this (and then left it and completely forgot about it), season 8 was still airing! Time flies! Still, season 2 is like AGES AGO! With season 13 airing now, it feels like the events of the second season belong to some other show; things have changed so much! Still, I needed to use the situation of those days to create this story; hope you can remember a few things about those episodes so this story wouldn't sound too strange now.

So, if anyone's reading this, I hope you enjoy it and I hope you can take a minute of your time to leave me a review so that I'd know what you think. Thanks.

 **Disclaimer : The title is taken from a song by Patty Griffin and I still don't own anything but my mistakes and the plot of my stories.**

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 **. All That Shines Is Not Truth .**

 **.**

"Leave me alone, Dean." Sam growled angrily as he stumped towards the bathroom to brush his teeth.

"Sam, I'm just saying-"

"That you're worried?" He cut his brother off. "Well, don't! I just wanna be alone. I'm tired of your constant hovering. You can never learn to give me some space."

"Sammy-"

"It's Sam. Dammit." he yelled and walked to the bathroom's door frame, hitting it with the palm of his right hand. "Why can't you get it? You're smothering me. I don't care what Dad told you before dying, I don't need a damn babysitter and I sure as hell don't need _you_. Sometimes I wish he hadn't traded his life for yours; sometimes I think it was easier to deal with _him_." As soon as those words left his mouth, Sam knew he'd screwed up; he might be a little drunk, OK, a little more than a little; but he was sober enough to realize he'd hurt Dean with those words and more importantly, he was sober enough to realize those things had been the wrong things to say; because no way he'd ever prefer having their dad around instead of Dean.

He depended on Dean, he couldn't _live_ without his brother; what was wrong with him saying those words? Dean was still upset about the fact that their father had sold his soul for him and kept beating himself over it; heck, he'd _apologized_ to Sam because he believed it wasn't fair that _their_ dad had died just for _him_.

Sam was sure his brother had no idea that their dad had actually done Sam a bigger favor by giving Dean back to him. It was almost 6 months since their father's death, but it still was a sore point for Dean; and here, he'd said just the opposite of what he actually believed about the deal their father had made; pushing a figurative steel blade into Dean's heart, by the look of it.

Dean swallowed hard, feeling like he had fire in his throat. Grabbing his jacket, he stood up and quickly walked out of the room, not waiting for Sam to come up with a half-assed apology.

.

Five minutes later, Sam was still standing there, looking like he'd been the one hit with ice water; he didn't know where those words had come from, but he knew he didn't feel drunk anymore.

Forcefully shaking himself out of his shock, he, finally, leaned against the wall next to the bathroom door and slid down slowly; hoping that Dean wouldn't take all night to come back or worse, leave him for good. Well, no, he knew Dean wouldn't do the latter; it just wasn't like him, especially with the promise he'd made to their father right after waking up from his coma. Sam was pretty sure Dean would go to a bar, get drunk, end up with a girl and come back the next day, pretending like nothing had happened between them; like Sam hadn't said the cruelest thing possible.

He just... _Oh, Shit!_ Sam jumped up from where he'd sank to the floor. What if Dean did something stupid? Like, say, sell his soul back for their father, because Sam had said that he wanted the older man back and because Dean had contemplated that option for a while and couldn't deal with the guilt anymore?

Grabbing his cellphone, Sam quickly called Dean's number. It went straight to the voicemail. "Dammit." He cursed under his breath before hearing the beep, indicating he could leave his message. "Dean? Hey, man. Umm. Listen, you know I didn't mean what I said earlier, right? I can never, not in a million years, prefer having Dad around instead of you. We would've killed each other the second day we were alone together." He paused and took a deep breath. "Look, what I'm trying to say is that I'm sorry I said those things and that I didn't mean them." Another pause and he added. "I... Dean. Please don't do any-... Please, could you just come back? I can't... I need you." With that he ended the call and sighed.

By then, he was sitting on the floor with his back against his bed, facing the door, wishing Dean would open the door and walk in; like he had been sitting in his car outside the room and Sam's call had solved everything. But that wasn't the case and Dean didn't come back.

Not that night.

Not the next day and not after hundreds of other messages left by Sam on his phone.

Around 8.30 the next night, Sam had searched the whole area, every bars and had asked people whether they'd seen Dean or not; but so far, there was nothing. He'd found the Impala and Dean's jacket in it near one of those bars, but nobody had remembered Dean there and at the end, he had nothing.

He was scared shitless and didn't know what he was supposed to do; he'd even called Bobby and had asked him if he'd heard from Dean and since the old hunter knew them too well, he'd asked the right questions, making Sam confess to his mistakes that had drove Dean away.

Bobby had been mad, Sam could say it by the way his voice changed and the curses that were pouring out of his mouth, but he loved both boys dearly and although he'd promised to have a 'talk' with Sam when he got there, he'd told him to stay calm and to not do anything stupid until he got there.

Sam was waiting for him when his phone started to ring and at the same time there was a knock on the door.

Pulling the door open, Sam let Bobby in and answered the phone at the same time. "Hello?"

"Is this umm... Sammy?"

Sam frowned at the nickname, "Yes?"

"I'm calling you from Saint George Hospital. We have a patient here who has many missed calls from you on his phone, the only thing that was on him. So I thought I should call you back and see if you knew him."

Sam's heart had sank the moment he'd heard the word ' _Hospital_ '. He should've known. He should've known something bad had happened to Dean. It wasn't like Dean to ignore his calls. No matter how badly he screwed up, Dean always answered his calls.

"Dark blond, tall; well-built?" Sam asked quietly, glancing worriedly at Bobby who was holding his cap in his hands.

"Yes." Came the answer through the speaker. "You know him?"

"He's my..." Sam swallowed thickly. "He's my brother. What's wrong with him?" He knew it had to be bad, because if they knew nothing about their patient, it meant he'd been unconscious and unable to answer questions.

"I can't tell you anything over the phone. I just know he'd been found unconscious last night and that he's not in a very good condition. Would you please come over here and bring his insurance card with you?"

"I'm on my way."

Sam couldn't even remember how he'd ended up in Bobby's car, but by the time he ended the call, they were moving towards the hospital and he had a box full of different cards in his hand which he, apparently, had taken from the Impala's glove box, before getting into Bobby's car.

"O God! Bobby!" Sam looked at the older man worriedly, once he was done talking to whoever that had called him from the hospital. "I knew something bad must've happened. I just knew it. I knew he'd do something stupid because of the things I said-"

"Stupid thing?" Bobby looked at him sharply. "Are you suggesting that he'd tried to off himself?"

"What?" Sam's eyes widened. _'Damn. Could that be the case?'_ He hadn't even thought about that option. "No... No... I... Jesus Christ, I haven't thought of that. Do you think-"

"No, you idjit." Bobby growled. "Do you think that's the worst thing Dean's ever heard in his life?"

 _No_. Sam thought. He knew neither he nor their father were considerate men when they were upset and he knew that Dean was usually the one they hurt with their words because he was the one they had around the most. No, Dean wouldn't think about suicide just because his brother was mean in a moment of weakness, because that wasn't the first time Sam had hurt him with his words.

"I... I think he might've tried to bring Dad back." Sam finally blurted out. "You know that he's blaming himself for his death and my words couldn't have helped."

Bobby was silent for a few minutes, knowing that Sam had a point. It was a scary thought, but not an impossible one. "They've found him unconscious last night." He finally uttered, sounding thoughtful.

"So?" Sam frowned.

"So you fought last night, Sam. Dean wouldn't have had enough time to do anything." Bobby pointed out. "Think! Was he feeling alright before your argument?"

Sam, surprisingly felt comforted. Bobby was right, Dean couldn't possibly have found the time to do anything to reverse their father's deal, especially with his car near that bar; and that was good because whatever it was, it meant Dean hadn't signed his death warrant. "I... I don't know. I was kinda drunk." He admitted quietly and could feel Bobby rolling his eyes, even though he couldn't see the older man's eyes.

"Well, we'll find out soon."

.

 **... TBC ...**

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 ** _A/N: Hope you let me know what you think._**

 ** _._**

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 ** _I still own nothing but my mistakes and the plot of my stories._**


	2. Chapter 2

Soon!

The nurse who'd given him the forms to fill in and had asked for Dean's insurance card had told him that Dean's doctor would be with them _soon_ ; you'd think in a hospital they'd know what 'soon' meant; then again, they use terms like 'pronto' and 'STAT', so maybe _their_ soon, wouldn't be all that soon for normal people.

Sam was pacing the waiting room up and down, biting his fingernails and constantly checking the clock on the wall, thinking about many things all at once; about the meaning of the word _soon_ in that nurse's dictionary; about all the things that could be wrong with Dean and also about the things he'd said to his brother that had clearly hurt him so much.

Thankfully, Bobby had let him be for the moment, knowing that when Sam was like that, it was better not to push him.

"Sam Andrews?" A man in his late 50s approached them and instantly started to apologize for keeping them waiting. "I'm sorry that you had to wait long; another patient needed my attention and it took a while to stabilize him."

Sam just nodded and asked about Dean, he wasn't interested in any other patients or the doctor and his busy night.

"Yes; Dean. To be honest, your brother's case is a bit of mystery to us."

That simple phrase alerted both Sam and Bobby; they knew that if the doctors used those words, it probably meant that whatever was wrong with Dean, wasn't something natural.

"What's exactly wrong with him?" Bobby asked.

"He's sustained contusion to his liver and kidneys and he's showing signs of hypovolemia; and considering the fact that the scans show no forms of bleeding, wound or anything else to cause hypovolemia, we're a bit concerned about it. Also we found no open wounds or bruising on his skin which I'm sure you understand sounds impossible since he has contusions on his internal organs. He's also showing the early signs of cerebral edema and again there's no sign of recent injury to his head. Now, while the hypovolemic shock could be somehow explained, the bruised internal organs and the head trauma is giving us trouble since we can't explain how they've happened. We couldn't find his medical file; can you tell us if he'd been in an accident recently or if there's a way we can get a hold of his file?"

While Bobby was lost for words, Sam was thrown back in time and the words that were leaving the doctor's mouth were giving him chill. It couldn't be it. No. There was no way he was hearing those words again. Those exact same words that he'd heard less than 7 months ago. But Dean was healed! Completely fine and he hadn't been in another accident ever since and he sure hadn't been the target of another maniac demon. So, how come he was in the exact same place he'd been all those months ago? Of course the doctors would be mystified.

"Mr. Andrews?"

"Sorry, what?"

"No." Bobby answered instead of Sam. "He hasn't been in any accident. He was perfectly fine yesterday." He looked at Sam for confirmation.

"Yes. Yes." Sam nodded his head vicariously. "He was absolutely fine. Not even a scratch on him when he left our room. I've been trying to reach him since last night; I've found his car and it was intact, too. And tonight, I got a call from here that my brother was hospitalized and unconscious."

"He's in a coma, actually." The doctor said gently.

Sam's breath hitched. This couldn't be happening again. Not Dean, too. No. He couldn't lose Dean, too. He couldn't lose Dad _and_ Dean; but even if it were between Dean and Dad, although it'd hurt him, he sure would choose Dean to stay alive. He couldn't go without his brother.

"Well, in any case, he doesn't show any signs of being involved in an accident." The doctor said thoughtfully. "Even though all the internal injuries are saying otherwise. That's why we're having trouble explaining his situation."

"He's in a coma?" Sam still hadn't dealt with that part.

"Fortunately, it's not deep and we're hopeful that he'll wake up soon-"

"Oh. Thank God." At least this time they weren't telling him that Dean was definitely dying.

"But-" the doctor continued. "With the head trauma, we can't be sure how exactly he's been affected. We have to wait for him to wake up to determine the extent of any damage."

"How bad could it be?" Bobby asked solemnly.

"I'm sorry, I can't say anything for sure. We just have to wait."

"Anything else?"

"He's not breathing on his own at the moment. He went to respiratory arrest upon arrival and we're keeping an eye on his heart, as well, as it's showing signs of arrhythmia."

Sam took a step back and leaned against wall. He nodded his head absently, but it was becoming too much.

"You can see him and stay with him if you want. He's in room 324."

"Thank you." Bobby said dismissively and turned around to look at Sam.

"Bobby. This can't be natural."

"You're telling me." The older man sounded bone-tired.

"No. I mean... You weren't there, Bobby." Sam said dejectedly. "This is exactly how Dean was after _the_ _accident_."

Bobby's eyes widened as the realization hit him. "You're telling me-"

"Yes. He's... Bobby, what if he's somehow reversed the whole thing? What if he's made a deal or something to bring Dad back and now he's back to where he was all those months ago."

"What kind of deal? There's no way Dean could've had enough time to do that."

"Then what the hell is going on? How can you explain this?" Sam sank to the floor and pulled at his hair. "Right after I say I wish he were gone instead of Dad; right after I say I wish Dad hadn't made that deal-" he sounded broken. "I didn't mean it. I can't lose him, Bobby. I can't."

"You heard the doctor. He'll probably wake up soon." Bobby tried to sound hopeful, even though he knew he was failing.

"Wait a second." Sam suddenly jumped up. "Do you... Do you think Dad might be back now? I mean-"

Bobby had thought about it. "Let's just make sure we won't miss a call. If John is back, he'll find a way to contact us."

...

Two days later Dean still hadn't come out of his coma and both Sam and Bobby were at their wits' ends. The medical team couldn't do anything else for Dean except to monitor his condition closely and unlike the first time that Dean had ended up in a coma, he, or well, his spirit, didn't seem to be around, this time. Sam had tried to contact him, but either his brother was around and too upset to show it or he wasn't around anymore and Bobby had told Sam that it couldn't be the former, because it wasn't like Dean to ignore Sam and especially in a situation that grim; besides, he'd pointed out, this time Dean was in a lighter coma; so he probably wasn't going through another out of body experience.

Bobby had busied himself trying to find out about everything that had ever happened in that town; he was sure whatever had landed Dean yet in another hospital bed was related to something in the town's past and even though he hadn't found anything useful, he was determined to keep digging.

And he would've just done that if it hadn't been for the call that Sam received that night.

And in all honesty, both Sam and Bobby had hoped that they'd never hear the voice on the other end of the line again; not like this.

"Hello?" Sam answered his phone tiredly.

"Sam? Where's Dean? What the hell did you boys do?"

Sam dropped the phone and jumped to his feet, taking a few steps back.

"Sam?" Bobby's head shot up.

"It's him. O God! Bobby, it's him. He's back."

For a second, Bobby just closed his eyes and tried to calm his nerves. He then stood up and walked to the discarded phone on the ground and picked it up.

"John?" He asked tentatively.

"Bobby?" Came the hesitant answer. "Bobby, tell me this isn't happening. Tell me those boys didn't do anything stupid?"

"Where are you?" Bobby asked instead and when he heard John's response he just cursed. "Damn." Whatever that had brought the oldest Winchester back, had brought him back right where his son was hospitalized. "Come to the hospital."

"What? Why?"

"Just come." Bobby ended the call, not ready to answer any questions yet. He, first, needed to bring Sam out of his shock and then they both needed to get ready to face a, no doubt, furious John Winchester.

...

Just as he'd anticipated, John rushed into the hospital, looking pissed and _alright_ , kinda concerned; but completely alive.

Sam was torn between wanting to hug his father, never letting go; and feeling the urge to run back to Dean's room to lock the door and keep their father out, seeing how angry he looked.

"Dad." He uttered in a breathy voice and unable to help himself, he pulled the older man into a fierce hug.

The moment didn't last long, though. As John pushed his son away, Bobby grabbed a hold of John's jacket and pulled him out of the hospital. Once they were out, John found himself drenched in holy water and then a silver knife was pushed against the skin of his arm, drawing blood.

"Dammit, Bobby. It's me!"

"Well, excuse me for not just trusting your words." Bobby growled. "I know for a fact that those boys burned your body; how could you be back?"

"That's a great question." John stepped back. "Where's Sam? I need some answers."

"We don't _have_ answers."

"What do you mean you don't have answers? Where's Dean? He must know what's going on? I swear if that boy's done something stupid, I will-"

A Punch to his chick stopped him mid-sentence. He blinked a few times in shock and finally, when things came back into focus, he almost lost his balance again, this time from surprise; it was Sam who'd punched him.

Bobby, who'd apparently read Sam's mind, spoke. "You'll do what, John? Huh? That boy is lying in a hospital bed; once again in a coma and you dare to threaten him? Right after showing up after months?"

"You talk like I was off, taking a vacation. I was dead and I _should_ be dead right now. Excuse me if I'm freaking out for suddenly finding myself very much alive. If you two have no idea what's happened, then Dean must've done something stupid."

"Something stupid? Oh, like what _you_ did?" Bobby growled. "So it's alright for you to do that, but if, and I'm saying _if_ , because I'm pretty sure he hasn't done anything really, but _if_ , he does the same, then it's stupid?"

"I did it to save his life; he didn't deserve to die. I couldn't-"

"What makes you think he could go on with your death on his conscience? With knowing you'd died in his place?" Bobby spat angrily.

"Bobby-"

"No. Don't Bobby me, you bastard. You can't get mad at people for doing things that you yourself would do." Bobby was now the pissed one. "We all wanna know what's going on and we want Dean back, but you waltzing in and acting like a complete bastard ain't helping anyone. Get your act together or get lost."

"You can't keep me from seeing my son." John growled.

"Watch me!" Bobby said coldly. "Technically, you're dead; if I bring that up, there'd be no way for you to get anywhere near that boy."

John's shoulders dropped in defeat; "I just wanna see him and find out what's going on. Dean shouldn't be the one fighting for his life. He shouldn't have, first time around, either; it was _my_ fault he got hurt like that." He sounded broken. "Or Sam! Sam doesn't deserve this either; to have to go on without his brother; to have to go through this again." He looked at his younger son like he was seeing him for the first time since coming back. "I'm sorry, son."

Sam just nodded his head; Bobby's outburst had silenced him and he found himself drained; unable to feel anything at all.

John grabbed his son and pulled him into a hug. "I really am sorry, Sammy. I couldn't let Dean-"

"I know, Dad." Sam interrupted him.

John sighed and pulled back. "I can't be here, Sam. I don't know what's going on, but whatever it is, it's the reason Dean's in hospital again. We have to find out what's happened and reverse it."

"Reverse it?" Sam gulped; he'd kinda wished they could, _somehow_ , do something to keep both Dean _and_ Dad around.

John held his son's gaze and smiled sadly, knowing that the young hunter would understand what was needed to be done.

Sam bit his lips and looked away. "Let's go see Dean, first, huh?"

"Yes; we'll figure it out. Come on, John." Bobby walked towards the hospital and heard both Winchester following him.

.

 **... TBC ...**

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 ** _A/N: Hope you let me know what you think and thanks for your comments and support.  
_**

 ** _._**

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 ** _I still own nothing but my mistakes and the plot of my stories._**


	3. Chapter 3

John was still angry, not at Dean or anyone else in particular; he was angry because he knew he wasn't meant to be there and he couldn't watch his oldest fight for his life again.

Dean looked exactly the same as he did the last time; only paler, if you asked John. But at least he wasn't dead yet and according to Sam and Bobby there were good chances he might wake up. There was only one problem there; according to Dean's doctor, the head trauma was severe and there were chances of some sort of brain damage. John didn't know what they'd do if Dean woke up anything less than perfect and he knew for sure that his son would take it hard.

Damages to his other internal organs were worrisome, as well; the damage to his liver and kidneys along with the damage that _he_ had inflicted on his son while possessed.

All in all, Dean's future didn't look that bright, at that moment and after two days of being reunited with his family, they were no closer to an answer.

Sam had talked to him about their lives after his death; about his regrets; about Dean not dealing well; about Dean taking it hard knowing their father had traded his life for him and about the secret that he wasn't supposed to know but Dean had shared with him nevertheless.

He'd been angry at that point and John had felt the urge to apologize. He didn't apologize because he didn't know how to do that; he was sorry for putting that burden on Dean and for not telling his sons sooner and for not being there for them and for not finding a way to save his youngest. But he didn't know what to say or how to say it. The look of remorse in his eyes had apparently calmed Sam a bit, or maybe it was the fact that Dean was dying, again; for whatever reason, Sam had let go of that problem for the time being.

The youngest Winchester had gone on about their lives, about his fights with Dean and about how he, secretly, had blamed John for putting Dean through that and then confessed how he'd done the same when he'd found out about John's secret.

He told his father how he'd added to the pressure Dean was under and finally he told his old man about their last fight. He seemed to think whatever was going on, was somehow his fault; and if John was honest; after hearing Sam, he kinda thought the same. He felt sorry for both of them; in a way, Sam and Dean were both under too much pressure; but at that moment, he just wanted for Dean to wake up, so he could hug his son and let him know how sorry he was for doing this to him, for everything that the boy had been forced to go through throughout his life because of his father and for hearing he was not enough after everything he'd done for that family.

It hadn't been until he was actually in Hell that John'd realized how important it was to let his sons know how much he cared and how sorry he was for the things the YED had said. Before, he thought words didn't matter; that his boys knew he loved them deeply, equally and unconditionally; now, though... Now he knew how words could hurt. Now he knew better. Much better.

He wanted to hold Dean's shoulders, look him in the eye and tell him he was the best man he'd ever known; that he and Sam were the best sons any father could wish for and he was the best brother anyone could have. And he knew Sam was thinking the same thing because he'd said so.

They both needed Dean to know they needed him more than anything and anyone in this world and without him they'd be lost.

They needed Dean to wake up; not just because they wanted to apologize; they also knew something supernatural was causing all that and they needed to find out what it was to be able fix it; even if it meant John would go back to hell; because that was their lives now and deep down they both knew the world needed Dean more than it needed John and that none of them could ever live with themselves if Dean didn't come out of this one and they knew John would need to go back, eventually, because if something was too good to be true, then it _couldn't_ be true and it'd come with a huge price and they'd already paid a hefty price.

They needed to fix things.

Only if they could find out what the hell was going on...

.

.

Exactly five days after Dean and Sam's fight, Dean came out of his coma.

Of course it wasn't like the last time that he'd come out of a coma; that time a deal had brought him back, so he'd woken up with a gasp, pretty much magically fixed and with no problem to keep him down for long. This time, however, he woke up disoriented, in pain and still too out of it to notice what was happening around him.

It took him another two days before being able to stay awake and respond to questions he was being asked; two days to notice what was going on around him. Or, he'd be able to _if_ he could see. The problem was that he couldn't see a thing; apparently the head trauma that had caused the swelling in his brain had affected his eyesight which consequently almost sent him to a full panic attack.

The only reason he didn't panic completely was the mild sedative in his system, which gave the doctor enough time to explain the blindness was probably just a temporary issue because all the scans were clear enough and it was the swelling that was causing trouble right at that moment.

Still, despite calming down, he was in no shape to have visitors until a couple of hours later.

The doctor had told his family about his situation and had explained that because of his other injuries, it was vital that he stayed as calm as possible and that he needed to avoid any unnecessary stress or shock; which meant John couldn't just walk in and ask him how he was doing and what he'd done to bring him back; that'd probably cause a heart attack, even if Dean hadn't already been in a bad place.

So, they decided to let Sam go in, first. That way the younger brother could say what he needed to and then move to the next topic; _their father being back_!

They thought they'd go from there; seeing whether or not Dean had done anything to bring John back or if he knew what was going on.

But first, Sam needed to talk to Dean and that was easier said than done after the last conversation the brothers had had.

"Dean?" Sam said quietly as he stood by the side of his brother's bed.

Dean turned his head towards where Sam's voice had come from, but didn't say a word and kept his eyes shut.

"Your doctor talked to us."

Dean still didn't say a word, just sighed.

"Umm, I... Dean; you know that I didn't mean anything I said that night, right?"

Still no words; just a frown.

"I'm sorry. I really am. I could never live with the alternative; you know that. Dad knew it, too." Sam said brokenly and he still didn't get any reaction from his brother; so he added, "Please, Dean. Say something."

Dean swallowed and turned his head away and opened his unseeing eyes. "What do you want me to say, Sam?"

Sam wanted to weep at the weariness in his brother's voice. Dean wasn't supposed to sound like that; broken, defeated, drained.

"Do we know what's caused this?" Dean said and grimaced when he moved his hand to point at his eyes and body.

"No. No." Sam said quietly. "We were kinda hoping that you could have something for us."

"Like what?"

"Like... I don't know. It sounds stupid, but umm, did you, by any chance, do something that night when you left the motel? Met someone maybe?"

"You're not interviewing a scared, skeptic witness or a victim, Sam." Dean spat angrily. "You think I would've asked _you_ if _I_ have done something?"

"No. I'm not saying that. But... Well, maybe you haven't noticed it. I mean you were pretty upset." Sam said the last part dejectedly.

"Not my first time hearing things like that. Nothing upsets me enough not to notice when some supernatural shit is going on around me," Dean's face was expressionless. "So. No! There's nothing I can think of."

"The thing is... Well, something weird is going on." Sam waited for Dean to roll his eyes and say _'you think?'_ , but Dean remained impassive. "I mean of course something weird is going on, but... it's something more... Something..."

"Will you just spit it? What the hell is going on?"

Sam bit his lip and sighed through his nose, "What your doctor has told us about your situation now; it is exactly the same as your diagnosis after the car crash."

"The car crash?" Dean frowned. "You mean-"

"Yes. Well except the umm, blindness, of course." Sam watched as Dean barely kept himself from wincing at that word and his heart broke at that sight. "You were in a deeper coma back then and they didn't think you'd ever wake up. I told you there was a reaper after you that time, but this time-"

"This time, whatever this is, has decided to go for my eyesight instead." The older brother spat hatefully.

"Hey, they say it's not permanent."

"Whatever." Dead replied tiredly; sounding like he wasn't all that sure about that part of his diagnosis.

"There's more." Sam added quietly.

Dean blinked and turned his face his brother's way.

"I... I don't know how to say this. I-"

"Sam!" Dean growled.

"There's someone here who wants to see you."

Dean frowned. "Bobby?"

"No."

"Ellen? Jo?"

"No. No." Sam grimaced and decided to say it. "Dad."

At first, Dean didn't react in any way. He blinked a few times and then cleared his throat. "Come again?"

"Dad is back."

This time the heart monitor showed Dean's stress and disbelief and Dean felt a moment of dizziness as his chest tightened.

"Hey. Hey, calm down, Dean! Please. They won't let us see you if you don't. You can't get stressed."

"I can't get stressed? So what? I'm just supposed to lie here and act like nothing's happened when you're telling me our father, our very _dead_ , _'soul in Hell for the rest of eternity_ ' father is here? Where's he?" Dean pushed himself upward but he was so weak and in so much pain that he lost his balance and fell back; his heart rate racing up.

"Dean; they will throw us out. Please." Sam put a glass of water near Dean's mouth and pushed it so Dean could drink. "Believe me, I know; I felt the same way and I actually expected to see him."

"You _expected_ to see him?" Dean pushed the glass away and frowned with confusion. "What? You brought him back? Did you make some sort of deal? Is that even possible to sell someone else's soul? I don't mind him being back and alive instead of me, but why am I still alive then?"

Sam expected anger, shock, hurt; but he didn't expect acceptance and resignation and when first Dean asked if it'd been Sam making a deal, he thought Dean would get angry, thinking he'd traded his own life for their father's; never in a million years could he imagine Dean'd think he'd trade _Dean_ 's life for their dad's; he'd never thought his words had affected his brother this much that he'd accept Sam selling his soul for their dad's; if that was even possible at all.

"Dean, I didn't make a deal. And how could you even think it? I'd never do that." Sam sounded hurt; that much Dean could tell from the way his voice wavered. "I told you, there's no one I'd rather have by my side than you. I didn't mean what I said that night; you gotta believe me."

"Then what did you mean and how's he back? And again, why am I not dead?"

"We, Bobby and I expected him because when the doctor told us about your conditions I knew it had to have something to do with Dad; I mean come on, you are in the exact same situation and you haven't even been in any car crash this time. What else were we supposed to think?"

"He's back?" Dean asked quietly. "You sure it's him?"

"Bobby made sure."

"He angry?"

"Guess he's more scared." Sam replied. "He's here. You think I should let him in?"

Dean was scared, too. He'd missed his father like crazy and he hadn't spent a day, since that fateful day in that hospital, not wishing to see his dad again; but now that he had the chance, he was scared. Scared of his father's reaction; of what he'd say to the fact that Dean had told Sam about the secret? And what would he think of him for not making any progress in finding the demon? What would he think of him being _blind_?

He was frigging _blind_ ; damn, he missed his father and he couldn't even _see_ his face. He really felt like being alone at that moment. "Not now. Give me some minutes."

Sam nodded, but then remembered Dean couldn't see it. "You wanna be alone?" He could actually understand where Dean was coming from.

"Yeah."

"I'll be outside. And, Dean; he's sorry, I think... No. I know! And... And we'll find a way to fix you, alright?" He declared and when Dean didn't respond to his words, he finally walked out to give his brother some time to come to terms with everything that was going on.

.

 **... TBC ...**

* * *

 ** _A/N: I hope you can take the time to let me know what you think._**

 ** _._**

 ** _._**

 ** _I still own nothing but my mistakes and the plot of my stories._**


	4. Chapter 4

John gave his son close to one hour to get over his shock, but that was the most he could do and even that had surprised Dean; he'd anticipated that his father would barge into his room within 10 minutes, top.

"Son?"

Dean's heart skipped a beat; literally; the heart monitor actually showed the irregular rhythm, making John eye the device worriedly.

"Dad? That... That really you?" Dean's voice was barely above a whisper.

"I know; it's still a shock to me, too." John tried to smile, but his son's condition; the boy's unseeing eyes and the abnormal heart beat disturbed him more than he was willing to admit. And he wasn't even thinking about the fact that he was back from death, _from Hell_ , and they had no explanation for it.

"Dad-" Dean wanted to reach out and grab his father and pull him into a hug; he wanted to see the man, and touch him to make sure he was there; but none of those things seemed possible and it made him feel even more dejected.

Fortunately, John had missed his son just as much and Dean's current condition had pushed his fatherly side forward; so, grabbing Dean's shoulders, he pulled the younger man into a fierce hug and held onto him for so long that he felt Dean's wild heart beat calmed down against his chest again.

"We burned your body." Dean said brokenly. "How's this possible?" He asked as he tentatively touched his father's cheek.

John let him do that, knowing that without his sight, Dean probably needed the contact to make sure it was really him. He'd seen blind people do that and absently wondered if Dean knew how quickly he'd fallen into that pattern and it scared him; because Dean needed his sight; he didn't deserve to live in a dark world for the rest of his life and definitely not for the mistakes that _he_ had made. Dean deserved better; he deserved the best.

"I don't know but I want to reverse whatever that had caused this." John said as he put a hand on his son's shoulder.

"Dad-" Dean started to protest, but John stopped him.

"This's not good, Dean. You know it's not and it should've never happened. And you do not deserve to go through this a second time."

"I didn't feel it the first time." Dean said quietly.

"I did." John said just as quietly. "I'm gonna fix this, Dean. You're gonna be fine; you hear me, son?"

"Dad, no." Dean stopped him this time. "Maybe this is right. Maybe it's better this way. It was never supposed to be you. _I_ was supposed to die that day, not you. You shouldn't have made that deal and just... Just how _could_ you?" Dean would've raised his voice if he had the energy.

"Dean! First of all, calm down." John said firmly. "Second of all, you wouldn't have _been_ there in the first place if it hadn't been for me."

"I was there because of the _demon_ , not _you_." Dean retorted stubbornly. "And now that you're back; we can make everything right. _You_ should be with Sam, not me. You can take better care of him; he doesn't need me. I should've never come back."

"Enough." John ordered. "Dean, how could you say that? Without you we would've been lost. I made the deal because you didn't deserve to die; I owed you more than that but it was the least I could do; and honestly it was more for selfish reasons; I couldn't deal with your death; you're stronger than I could ever be; you're a better man; always have been, even when you were just a kid. And Sam would never stick around if you were gone. You practically raised him; he might be pigheaded, but at least he listens to you and he was a wreck when you were in a coma. I did what I did for all of us, for Sam who needs you, for you and for me. Don't ever say it should've been you who died, because if it comes to it, I'd do exactly the same again."

"Dad, please. No." Dean pleaded with him.

"You know this isn't right, Son. I don't know how, but at the end of this, I'll be gone again, I'm just glad I got another chance to talk to you; to tell you how proud of you I am and how sorry I am for putting that last burden on your shoulders. I've always relied on you and like I said before, you've always, all your life, taken care of me and Sam; you kept us together; I didn't deserve you, but I'm thankful for you and I'm sorry I was more of a drill sergeant than a father. I'm sorry if I made you think that you come second to everything else. You're the best thing that's happened to me, you hear me? You and your brother. Please understand, Dean. You need to fight this."

Dean bit his lip to keep it from trembling. "I wish I could see you." He knew that if Sam hadn't told him that they'd made sure it was really their father there, he'd doubt it with the way the older man was talking and praising him; he wasn't used to hearing those sort of stuff from John Winchester; he wished he could see him to match the words with the man's face and his expressions.

That was said so brokenly that John had to close his eyes for a second. "I hope I can stay around long enough for you to regain your sight, but in case I don't, I want you to know I'm so proud of you, Dean. I'm so damn proud of you."

"This sounds scarily like your last goodbye speech."

"Well, it could be. I don't want to miss any other chances. We don't know what has caused this and we don't know how or when it might end. I needed you to know." The older man replied honestly, sounding pained and remorseful for all the times that he'd missed a chance in the past.

"Thanks." Dean said under his breath and clenched the sheet between his fists. "Promise me you won't keep me out of the loop, Dad. Promise me you'll tell me whatever you find. I know I'm not of much use to you like this; but promise me you won't keep me in the dark..." He winced at his own choice of words. "Well, you know what I mean."

"Alright. You have my word, son. And you're not useless; you just need to concentrate on getting better, now; it's not just your eyes; your doctor said your heart isn't strong enough yet and your kidneys and liver are still in bad conditions, too. So just take it easy for a while." John squeezed his son's shoulder. "Now get some rest while I call Bobby and see if he's found anything. Either Sam or I will always be here; so if you thought of something, just tell us and we'll check it out."

Dean nodded his head and closed his eyes; wishing that the next time he opened them, the darkness would be gone.

.

.

"Dean?" Bobby's voice didn't have its usual gruffness when he called the young hunter's name.

It's been three days since Dean'd come out of his coma and not only the blindness hadn't disappeared -which the doctors still kept saying wasn't a cause of too much worry because things like that wouldn't go away overnight-; his general health was deteriorating, too. His liver and kidneys didn't show any sign of improvement; his lungs were getting weaker and now he had a mask over his nose and mouth, feeding him pure oxygen and his heart... His heart was apparently failing, too and the heart monitor was making it clear even for those not knowing anything about medicine and human body. These, unlike his so-called 'temporary' blindness, were problems that the doctor _were_ worried about and even though Dean was out of it most of the time, he still knew what was going on around him and knew how his own body was failing him.

Unseeing eyes opened slightly as Dean, tiredly, turned his head over to where Bobby was sitting.

"How you doing, boy?"

Bringing his thumb up, Dean smiled behind the oxygen mask and even though the smile itself was hidden by it, the wrinkles around his eyes delivered his message.

"Yeah, you look it, too." The older man grumbled, feeling a heaviness in his chest that he hadn't felt since he'd lost his beloved wife. But this boy; this stubborn, but brilliant boy with the hugest heart he'd ever seen, was like a son to him and even though, throughout the years, he'd seen him in many forms of pain, physically and emotionally, he still wasn't used to seeing him this way.

With way more effort than should be needed to move an arm and remove a mask, Dean raised took the mask off and breathlessly asked, "Hey, man... Any... Anything ... New?"

Even hearing the boy sounding so frail and hoarse hurt Bobby and if Dean could see him, he'd notice it in the other man's eyes. "We're all working on it."

Dean's corner of mouth moved slightly as he smiled. He knew he didn't have much time.

"Hey, don't give me that look."

"Wha... What look?" he rasped.

"You know what look." Bobby said gruffly; "you're not giving up! You hear me?"

"Bobby... You don't... don't und... understand." He panted. "It's b... better this-" He stopped when a hand landed on his shoulder.

"It's not, Dean." The older man growled. "And you'll _not_ give up. We'll find what's causing this."

"Should've-"

Bobby knew what Dean was going to say; so, once again he stopped him before the boy wasted any more of his breath and his already fading energy. "Doesn't matter what _should've_ happened. _You_ were the one who survived at the end and that was for the best."

Dean frowned; "How could-" He coughed and Bobby put the mask over his mouth and nose again.

"Don't talk."

Shaking his head, Dean took a few breathes before once again removing the mask, stubbornly refusing to listen to the older man. "Bobby, please-"

The look on Dean's face was one Bobby could never resist.

"Dad and Sammy..." He paused, "They... They need you."

"And they need you. More than they'd ever need anyone in this world. So, fight!"

"I am... But-"

"No buts!"

"Not much longer." Dean stated tiredly.

"Dammit, you idjit! What do you think would happen to your father and brother if you leave now?" Bobby grabbed the boy's shoulder, "They'll be devastated."

"They'll... move on." Speaking was getting harder for Dean.

"That's what you think? That they'll just move on and what? Keep going like it never happened?"

Shaking his head slightly, Dean said, "No. But... they can do it. Done it in the past."

Shaking his head, Bobby silently cursed John and Sam for making Dean think they'd just moved on with their lives when they'd left Dean without a word; one lousy phone call every now and then had been all Dean'd wanted from them and it'd be enough to make him realize he still had his family; even when they were states apart. "That's because they always knew you were there. Maybe not nearby, but out there, somewhere that they could reach you with no problems." He pointed out, "They were the knuckleheads who left and didn't call, sure; but they both did it because they knew they could count on you being there no matter what. Every damn time they think you wouldn't be there for a reason, when you are too hurt to move or too close to death; they'd both panic! Haven't you noticed the pattern yet?" He shook his head, even though Dean couldn't see it. Dean was really blind to his own worth. "It's not different this time."

"Can't-"

"You can because you're strong, Dean." Bobby exclaimed.

"Take... Take care of them if-"

"I can't!" Bobby refused; "They wouldn't stick around for me to do anything and they'd both lose it completely if you give up."

"Dammit! Not... Not giving up-"

"I know. I know." Bobby said ruefully; "You've never been a quitter; I know you'd do anything for those two idjits."

"So... You..." Dean inhaled and it sounded painful, "Make sure they won't kill each other?" He finally uttered a whole sentence without pausing.

"I damn well will try." Bobby rolled his try. "But nobody but you can actually do that. So you better keep fighting this until we find the solution."

Dean nodded, because that's what was expected of him; even though he did feel like he was damn close to buying the farm this time.

"Dad and Sam?"

"You wanna see them?"

Dean just nodded and felt a familiar pain when he thought how he wished he could actually _see_ them one last time and how he couldn't.

"I'll call them."

"Thanks."

"You're welcome, boy." Bobby nodded. "Now keep this on-" He put the mask over Dean's mouth and nose again; "Your whizzing is hurting _me_!"

Dean said something that wasn't clear, but it sure sounded like ' _ass_ '.

.

 **... TBC ...**

* * *

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 ** _I still own nothing but my mistakes and the plot of my stories._**


	5. Chapter 5

"You two should go see Dean." Bobby said as he walked into the room that used to be Sam and Dean's, but, now, had John taking Dean's place.

"We're doing this _for_ Dean!" John glared at him and turned his attention back to his journal and the book that were open in front of him.

"Is he alright?" Sam asked worriedly; he did want to go see his brother, but he was worried if he wasted any time, it'd be too late to find the thing that'd help Dean. He couldn't do anything in the hospital.

"Of course he's not alright!" Bobby growled; "He can barely talk now."

"Bobby!" John said warningly.

"What?" Bobby wasn't one to back down, though. "Even the oxygen mask isn't doing him much good now. They're talking about intubating him again."

At hearing that, Sam felt his face drained of all color and even John looked up from his book and stared at Bobby with clear concern in his eyes.

"If they do that, you wouldn't be able talk to him." Bobby pointed out. "He's been asking for you."

That did it; Sam, like he hadn't been doing anything else moments earlier, quickly got up and grabbed his jacket.

"Sam!" John called out.

"I can't, Dad!" Sam shook his head no. "I'm going to see my brother. I can't... He's there and I-" Shaking his head again; he quickly walked out.

John sighed, feeling defeated. "There gotta be something, Bobby."

"Go see your son, John."

"You giving up on him?" John looked at him angrily.

"Did I say that?" Bobby snapped. "He still has got time. Go talk to him and then come back to look for reasons or solutions. I'll do it while you're gone."

John still didn't look like he could move from his spot.

"You were gone for months, Winchester. Dead! That almost broke Dean. I know he'd give anything to talk to you again; to have you around. Don't let this chance go to waste."

"Dammit, Bobby! He's in so much pain. This is _not_ a _chance_!"

"To Dean it is. He wants to talk to you."

"And if he's not saved because I wasted time going to the hospital?"

"That's _not_ wasting time!" Bobby barked angrily. "When are you going to learn these basic things about family and caring! I wonder whoever thought Dean these things! It couldn't have been _you_."

Defeated, John's shoulders slumped. "Mary was like that; she was the one always caring about these things." He whispered.

"Not seeing him is wasting time and opportunity, John." Bobby said more calmly.

Nodding, John stood up; "You'll... You know?" He pointed to the books on the table.

"I won't stop looking. Go!"

.

Once at the hospital, John walked straight to Dean's room, but his steps faltered before entering the room. It was true that he was adamant about leaving his research while he knew he could do nothing for Dean at the hospital; but that wasn't the only reason why he tried to stay away. The other reason was that he was scared of seeing Dean like that; it always scared him to see either of his sons in a situation like that; they were both strong men and it was hard for him to see them hurt and it terrified him when he couldn't do anything to help them.

Sam's voice talking to his brother brought him back from where his thoughts had taken him; surprisingly Dean was still able to hold a conversation, even though his wheezing was louder than the irregular beeping of his heart monitor.

Stepping closer to the door, he listened to his boys; he wanted to hear them both when they didn't know he was around; wanted to see how they were when they were alone together; when they were themselves the most.

What he heard next, an innocent question asked quietly by Dean, took his breath away, though.

Dean had asked his brother if he thought he'd end up in Hell.

That had apparently struck Sam, too; because for long minutes Sam was silent. Or maybe it'd just been what John had felt.

"Dean! You're not dying!" Sam had finally exclaimed loudly.

"Sammy." Dean's voice was kind, like he knew something Sam wasn't willing to believe and was trying to convince him.

"You're not dying, Dean." Sam stated again, this time sounding pleading. "Please. I can't lose you, too."

"You've got dad." Dean said quietly.

"Dean, no! Look-"

"Sam!" Dean interrupted him, but then he started coughing and their conversation was put on hold for some minutes until Dean wasn't purple in the face and was able to breathe again. "He'll... He'll help you and... And then you can go back to your normal life."

"Not when you're not there."

"I wasn't before, either." Dean pointed out tiredly.

And John winced at hearing that and he knew Sam must've winced, too.

"But you were." Sam retorted quietly and John could hear the pain and sadness in his youngest son's voice.

"OK. Fine." Dean huffed and somehow John knew Dean had just rolled his eyes, too. "But just... Just in case... Do you think I'll... Hell..." Dean paused again and there was some shuffling and John took a peek and saw Sam'd put the mask back on his brother's face.

"No, Dean. You'll not go to Hell. If there's one person in the whole universe deserving peace and Heaven it's you. You've spent _literally_ your whole life helping others; why would you even think you might go to Hell?" Sam said, sounding so firm and sure that even Dean must've been convinced. "But that's the case for at least hundred years from now. You're not going anywhere now."

Dean snorted behind his mask and suddenly started to cough again.

Figuring it was a good time as any, John entered the room to be with his sons; who knew? Maybe this would be the last time they could all be together. Not because _Dean_ was going anywhere; no! That'd never happen; not on John's watch! These could be their last moments together just because he'd be going back to where he'd come from; he shouldn't be here; he didn't care what anyone said about him being stupid making a deal with a demon and selling his soul; he couldn't let Dean die and he couldn't let Sam go through life without his brother, his anchor, his savior; and he couldn't live knowing he'd let Dean down again. He remembered Hell; he was scared of going back there now that he'd experienced it firsthand and he wished he could find a way around it, but not at the cost of losing Dean.

Once Dean's coughs subsided, he was the one who first noticed John's presence; and wasn't that ironic? He couldn't see a thing and he was still more aware of his surroundings than anyone John knew.

Dean's head was turned towards where he was standing and even though his eyes were half closed and weren't even looking at him, John knew Dean'd somehow recognized him.

"Hey, Son."

John's voice startled Sam a bit as the younger boy had all his attention focused on Dean.

"Dad." Dean had removed his mask and patted Sam's hand away as he reached for it to put it back on. "Stoppit."

"Dean!"

"I'm fine." Dean panted, sounding far from what he'd just declared. "Stop fussing... Fran... Francis."

"Shut up, Jerk."

"Bitch." Dean smirked; but then a serious look covered his face as he once again moved his head to where his father was supposed to be.

Quickly, John walked to the bed and grabbed Dean's hand in his. Sam moved a bit and went to the other side of the bed; he knew he should probably let the two older Winchester talk alone, but he couldn't leave. He had both his father and brother in the same room with him again and knowing their luck, _or_ their current situation, this'd be that last time they were all together. So he stayed in the room and just remained quiet.

"How are you holding up?" John asked, knowing the answer but letting Dean pretend a bit longer.

"I'm good." Dean whispered.

Putting a hand on his son's neck and face, John smiled, wishing Dean could see it. "You _will_ be."

"Dad." Dean frowned. "Don't... Don't do... anything st... stupid."

"I'll just get back to where I was."

"No!" Both Dean and Sam exclaimed at the same time.

John felt both happy and sad; but he hid it and just gave a shake of head to Sam and squeezed Dean's hand. "Look, boys, I know you don't-"

"No!" Dean snapped again, and for a person so out of breath and so hurt, he sounded scarily firm. "You _don't_ know and that's the problem."

"Well, you sure can find the air to talk when you're angry." John grinned.

"Dad! Please."

"Dean, I can't-"

"Yes, you can!" Dean said firmly. "There must... must be a... way."

"Just not enough time." John growled before he could stop himself; he saw Sam flinch from the corner of his eyes, but Dean didn't react.

"Even if... you don't... Then it's... the natural wa-"

"Nothing about this is natural, Dean!"

"You'll find a way." Dean bit his lip as pain ran through his chest and the beeping of the heart monitor showed more irregularity.

"Calm down, son."

"Dean?"

John and Sam were alerted.

"Fine." Dean let go of his lip. "If I... can fight this; you can fight it, too."

"Fight what?"

"Giving up."

"What?" John frowned, "I'm not giving up."

"Yes, you're."

"Dean-"

"Dad; you'll find a way."

The faith Dean had in him scared him, because it'd always been there and more than once he'd let his son, his _sons_ , down.

"You've proven that when-" Taking a moment, Dean continued, "When you want, you can."

 _'Shit! Did that mean that Dean thought that every time he had failed doing something he hadn't really_ wanted _it?'_ John grimaced.

"At least when there's a way." Dean smiled tiredly.

Well, at least he didn't have too much faith in him; he clearly knew sometimes there just wasn't a way.

"And maybe-"

"Just promise... you won't... you won't give up."

"I won't, Dean."

"You did last time."

"We were running out of time, Dean. I couldn't let you die." John still didn't regret what he'd done.

Sam frowned; he remembered that he'd never thanked his father for giving Dean back to him; he'd told him he loved him; had told him he was sorry for many things; but he hadn't said how grateful he'd been for having Dean there with him; because somehow that sounded wrong when that meant he was admitting he'd always choose Dean over their dad.

"Thanks for... Thanks, Dad. But I can't... You in Hell..." Dean closed his unseeing eyes completely and John saw the struggle Dean was having to keep his emotions at bay.

"I love you, Son." The words were out of his mouth the moment they passed his mind; his gruff demeanor completely gone for the moment. After seeing his son so close to death, it wasn't as hard as before to remember any moment might be too late to tell his sons how much he cared about them. "Both of you; and I'm so proud of you two; you have to know that." He looked up at his other son to find him fighting the tears in his eyes.

Dean just had a smile on his face, a very tired one and then his hand went lax in John's grasp.

The fear that John felt in that moment was so numbing that he was sure his own heart would stop any seconds and then there was the shrill tone of the heart monitor, alerting the whole floor of a heart not beating anymore.

Sam was clutching Dean's other hand, begging him to wake up; tears running down his face.

Neither men registered hands grabbing them and ushering them outside; all they could see and register was Dean on the bed; once again lifeless as the medical team performed CPR on him.

Just how many times could Dean go through that? How many times had Dean been shocked back to life in the last _year_ alone? Sam had seen it happening more than once and even once was one time too many. He didn't think he could take it anymore.

Goddamit! Where was God? Couldn't he see this? Didn't he see Dean didn't deserve this? That _they_ didn't deserve this? What was he doing putting them through this over and over again? Maybe Dean was right! Maybe there was no God around anymore; he sure didn't seem to care all that much about them or the whole universe for that matter.

Sam wasn't even aware when his hand had moved and had grasped their father's arm; he just knew he needed an anchor and so did their Dad as they both stood there and numbly watched the man they needed the most in this world, slipping away despite everything the team of doctors were doing.

He'd promised to fight, though; so Sam knew he would come back; Dean never broke a promise. Never.

.

 **... TBC ...**

* * *

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 ** _I still own nothing but my mistakes and the plot of my stories._**


	6. Chapter 6

_Sam wasn't even aware when his hand had moved and had grasped their father's arm; he just knew he needed an anchor and so did their Dad as they both stood there and numbly watched the man they needed the most in this world, slipping away despite everything the team of doctors were doing._

 _He'd promised to fight, though; so Sam knew he would come back; Dean never broke a promise. Never._

 _._

* * *

They'd brought Dean back after what Sam wasn't sure how many shocks; he was pretty sure they were ready to call it, they usually did so after 5 times and no changes in the patient's status, after all; but one look at the two men standing in the doorway of Dean's room, looking so close to breaking down themselves, they'd kept going until Dean's heart started beating again. His lungs refused to follow suit, though; so, now Dean was hooked-up to a ventilator and mildly sedated. He wasn't unconscious; if he chose to wake up, he could; but he couldn't even see and now he couldn't talk either; so Sam hoped Dean would keep sleeping; maybe that'd preserve his energy, as well.

Still, it was Dean and he never did things the easy way; it was a good thing that Sam knew it, too; because earlier that day, he'd taken his stuff from their motel and had taken residence in the corner of Dean's hospital room. That way, when Dean woke up, Sam would be there to talk to him.

That'd happened three times, already; the first time, Dean'd almost panicked, choking on the tube in his throat, unseeing eyes darting around the room with fear. Sam had jumped up from the floor and grabbing his brother's hand, he'd tried to explain what was going on and fortunately Dean calmed down pretty quickly after that; he'd still looked very uncomfortable with the tube that was shoved down his throat, but at least he'd ordered his body not to fight it and now when he woke up, Sam talked to him and he'd squeeze Sam's hand that was holding his, showing that he was still there; still fighting and still alert.

Soon after the second time that Dean had woken up with the ventilator attached to him, John had joined them in the room; maybe it was because the staff thought Dean was too close to death, but for whatever reasons, the usual rules of ICU seemed to be not applying to them and they both were allowed to stay with their ailing family member as long as they wanted to and they both were allowed to keep their books and stuff with them. The only rule was that if they needed to use their phones or if Sam wanted to use his computer, they had to leave the room.

John was talking quietly to Dean as Dean had once again woken up some minutes earlier when Sam's phone started to ring.

It felt ridiculous, because the ring tone was the same as it'd always been, but somehow Sam felt like it had more urgency to it, this time and even John must've felt it, too, because he looked at Sam worriedly when he heard the noise. Or, well, maybe that was just because they were so desperate to find a way out of this situation that any phone calls could give them that feeling.

Grabbing his phone, Sam quickly walked out and away from Dean's room to talk. It was Bobby on the phone and Sam didn't want Dean to hear anything by chance, in case he couldn't control his feelings.

By the time he went back to their room; because it was _their_ room now; Dean was once again asleep and the only reason John hadn't left to look for him was because he was afraid Dean'd wake up again and with the situation he was in, he knew his son would automatically enter fighting mode and they didn't want that.

"Sam?" John called, when he saw that strange look on Sam's face; it was something between hope, fear and uncertainty.

"That... That was Bobby."

"And?" John felt his own heartbeat racing up.

"He thinks he might have something."

"On what's caused this?"

Shaking his head, Sam walked to the chair on the other side of Dean's bed and sank into it. "No... No. Still not sure about that one."

"Then what?"

"Umm, he said it's something that could buy us some time."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Don't know exactly." Sam looked his father in the eye. "Just called to ask whether Dean was still able to go through some rough rituals or he should try to look for something else."

"What?" John, involuntarily, grabbed Dean's arm, like he wanted to somehow protect him from going through anything else. "What did you say?"

Shrugging, Sam said, "I said he could."

"Sam! Look at your brother!" John barked, then forcefully lowered his voice. "You really think he can go through more?"

"He _has to_ , Dad!" Sam said quietly; he so was not ready for another fight with the older man and John must've read it in his eyes; that or he was too worried and too tired to fight, too.

"That's not the question, Sammy."

"He can do it, Dad. He will. Dean... It's Dean." He added quietly, hoping that his father could get what he meant.

Looking down at his still unconscious son, a look of pain and sadness washed over his face, but he nodded; Sam was right; it was Dean.

"Did he say anything else?" He asked after a couple of minutes of silence.

Sam jumped a little in his seat, like he'd forgotten he wasn't alone. "Umm... Said he's on his way?"

"What about this thing he's gonna do to Dean?"

"He didn't really say anything about _that_. Just said it should bring Dean back and give him some time."

"Some time?"

"I supposed whatever it is, is not permanent. That if we don't find a way, Dean could land right back here."

"No, that's not what it means." Bobby's gruff voice startled both.

"Then what? What've you found, Bobby?" John asked anxiously and that was something Bobby could say for sure that he'd never heard in John's voice.

"It's a ritual." He held up a book and a bag that seemed to be full of the stuff they'd need for this ritual. "Yes, it'll give Dean some time, but it won't miraculously heal him."

The other men in the room shared confused looks.

"If he can pull through the ritual, he'll start to regain his stamina and get better. Which is good; we don't want the doctors to turn him into a guinea pig to see how he's suddenly on his feet and all healed."

"What do you mean _if_ he pulls through?"

"What next?"

Sam and John asked at the same time. John looked at Sam and then turned to Bobby; "Answer that, first."

Bobby just looked at them like they'd finally lost it; he then cast a look at Dean; again at them and frowned. "He's barely hanging in there as it is." He finally answered, wondering if they couldn't see it for themselves.

"What do you need to do to him?"

"Physically, I'll just draw a bit of his blood; it's what the ritual should do that worries me."

"The staff will notice if you cut him for blood."

"That's why I'll use a syringe." Bobby rolled his eyes like they should've already known that's what he was going to do; it might not be their usual style; but they didn't need to use a knife to get some blood all the damn time!

"And when the ritual is done;" John repeated his question. "What then?"

"Then while Dean keeps getting better, we'll work on finding the thing that had done this."

"And reverse it." John stated firmly.

To their surprise, it wasn't Sam who protested, but Dean. A grunt came from the bed and they found Dean's eyes open with a frown on his face.

"I see you're awake." Bobby smirked. "Should've known you're too stubborn to let things just happen _around_ you."

Another grunt was his answer.

"What about you keep the growling and snapping for when the tube is out?" John had to grin himself.

After a couple of seconds Dean nodded.

"So, you heard us?" Bobby asked and at Dean's nod, he nodded himself. "Good; so you think you can take it?"

Another affirmative from Dean and that was all the answers they needed; even hooked up to machines and unable to see a thing, Dean was in control of his own life. Nobody made decisions for Dean Winchester.

"It's gonna be hard, son and it's gonna hurt." Bobby needed for Dean to be prepared.

Dean would've glared at him and say _'you think?'_ if he could; but sadly he was deprived of both means of communication; so, he just rolled his unseeing eyes and hoped they got the message.

"Just saying." Bobby replied grumpily as he saw Dean's reaction.

Sam had gone out to check around as Bobby and John started to take the stuff they needed out of the bag and set them on the tray in front of Dean. Bobby had successfully drawn some blood from Dean's arm when Sam came back and quietly closed the door behind him.

"It's clear for now."

"Good. Keep an eye out." John ordered.

Dean suddenly remembered something and reached out a hand to find someone who'd listen.

John saw it and held Dean's hand in his. "What's it, Dean?"

Dean, unable to say what he needed to say, grabbed the older hunter's hand and put it on the wires attached to his chest and then pointed his finger at his father.

John frowned. "What?"

"Oh, you're right." Sam suddenly said from the door. "Dad, you gotta attach the wires to your own chest."

John looked down at Dean as he nodded.

Blinking with confusion; he looked up at Sam, again; first of all, just how did Sam get what Dean was saying from that simple gesture? And second, just why should he- Oh!

"Good thinking." He nodded; whether the ritual worked or not, the rhythm of Dean's heartbeat would change and it'd skyrocket and the moment it did the nurses would be upon them; he quickly did as he was told, attaching one wire to his chest before removing the rest of the wires and the pulse-oximeter from Dean's chest and finger, so that the machines wouldn't send an alarm when they were detached from his son's body; and he hoped he could keep his own heartbeat under control; it wouldn't be easy; he was about to watch his son going through even more pain, but at the moment, Dean's heartbeat wasn't exactly normal, either, so hopefully there wouldn't be a problem with a little bit of irregularity.

"Let's hope they don't wonder why Dean's heartbeat is suddenly normal and so strong." Bobby stated and walked to Dean.

Yes, Dean's heartbeat was nowhere near that strong after days of getting closer and closer to death; but they couldn't fake a heart problem, so they just could hope nobody would notice, as long as there was nothing alarming.

Bobby grabbed the bowl in which he'd mixed the ingredients and dipped his fingers in it and moments later he was drawing signs on Dean's bare chest with the gooey substance; Dean wrinkled his nose in disgust, causing Sam to chuckle where he was standing next to the door and he was sure Dean would call him a bitch if he could talk, but with the tube down his throat, the older brother couldn't do anything and that was enough to stop Sam's chuckling; suddenly he was back to reality and there was nothing funny about it.

Dean was going to be in so much pain once Bobby started the chant he'd brought with him; Dean could die; this could be their last moments with Dean.

Now he just felt like crying.

Next, Bobby grabbed a piece of paper and recited the Latin words written on it; they didn't have to wait long; moments later, Dean's eyes snapped open and although it was clear that he still couldn't see anything, the pain in them was evident.

Maybe it was a good thing that he'd been intubated earlier; there was no way he could breathe through that kind of agony. He was pretty much writhing on the bed, but despite the immense pain, he was clearly still trying to keep himself from making any noise.

The more Bobby read, the hotter Dean felt. It was like he was set on fire and at the same time his bones were being crushed under a huge amount of pressure.

John and Sam watched with heavy hearts as tears leaked out of Dean's eyes. John grabbed his son's hand and told him to squeeze it; but with the way his whole world was on fire, Dean couldn't hear a thing and then he started to convulse; John grabbed his son's shoulders, holding him down gently, so that he wouldn't hurt himself with the tube down his throat. Soon, the trashing stopped and then the signs on his chest turned bright red and once again Dean's eyes snapped open; his mouth opened in a silent scream and then his body went limp.

Frantically, John touched his neck for a sign of life and Bobby quickly threw all their stuff in the bag and cleaned Dean's chest with a damp towel. John's hand was shaking and he couldn't find the pulse; he couldn't even help when Bobby moved to him and quickly removed the wires from his chest and reattached them to Dean's. And once they were on Dean, the heart monitor once again showed that sickening flat line.

Dean was once again gone.

.

 **... TBC ...**

* * *

 _ **A/N: I strongly recommend that you take a deep breath and not think about slaying me!**_

.

 ** _I still own nothing but my mistakes and the plot of my stories._**


	7. Chapter 7

_Frantically, John touched his neck for a sign of life and Bobby quickly threw all their stuff in the bag and cleaned Dean's chest with a damp towel. John's hand was shaking and he couldn't find the pulse; he couldn't even help when Bobby moved to him and quickly removed the wires from his chest and reattached them to Dean's. And once they were on Dean, the heart monitor once again showed that sickening flat line._

 _Dean was once again gone._

* * *

"How's he?" It was Bobby who asked the question once the doctor left Dean's room. Once again they'd revived Dean and now the young man was unconscious, again.

"Well, he's alive." The doctor replied honestly and looked at his patient's brother and father sympathetically; they were both clearly too worried and yet kinda numb. "Honestly, I didn't think we could bring him back this time."

"But no changes? Aren't his chances better now?"

"Nothing's different. I'm sorry." The doctor shook his head. "But at least he's not worse, either." At that point, it did count as good news. "We've sedated him for now; he's gonna sleep for at least a few hours. He seemed in a great deal of pain when we brought him back and we had no choice but to give him a stronger sedative."

Oh, yeah, he was going to be in some pain for a while; Bobby hadn't mentioned that part to anyone; because that wouldn't help them any; but he knew it and it was painful information.

Nodding his head, Bobby thanked the doctor and sat down on the chair.

"How long till we know if it's worked?" John asked gruffly; talking for the first time since they'd been ushered out of Dean's room when the boy had gone to cardiac arrest again.

"He should start showing improvement in the next few hours." Bobby answered. "You two stay here and keep looking for answers; I'll go do it out there. Someone in this friggin' town should know something."

.

.

Bobby had been right; Dean did show signs of improvement in a few hours; he was still in pain, even unconscious, but his heart was beating more regularly and soon they were able to remove the respirator and replace it with the oxygen mask again.

By the next morning, even the mask was gone and a connula was enough to help him breathe.

And Dean was still in pain; in agony really; because despite the improved vitals, much to the doctors' amazement; he was pale and without painkillers he'd curl into a ball and bite his knuckles to keep the pain inside. He knew because he did refuse the painkillers at one point and regretted it not long after.

It was another day before the pain subsided to a bearable level and the whole time, much to Dean's secret delight, John and Sam were there; still going through various books and notes, different ones than the one they'd brought with themselves the first day of turning Dean's room into one of their own.

Finally, the third day after the ritual, Dean was moved out of the ICU. The doctors thought it was the magic of the new medicine and the strength Dean had shown that had helped him heal and while they were right about the latter, they had no idea just what kind of magic had actually worked.

Dean's eyesight was another matter, apparently; he could now see shadows and light, but the rest of stuff were still hidden in a deep darkness. His doctor told him that he was getting better and if he was patient, he'd soon regain his eyesight, too; because all his scans and tests were showing how much better he already was and the nerves seemed intact.

What they didn't know was that Dean was scared _their_ soon would be too late for him and he'd miss seeing his dad one last time.

Those who knew Dean, though, knew what his problem was.

"You'll regain your sight in time, son." John tried to be reasonable.

"In time?" Dean frowned; "You're not going anywhere." He growled; dammit; it was good to be able to talk without having to pause every two seconds to draw breath.

Shaking his head, John didn't argue; they both knew he wasn't going to stay in this world.

"I have to see you." Dean said quietly when his dad remained silent. "It's not fair."

John couldn't hold back; he sat on the edge of the bed and moved Dean, who was sitting up with his back against the headrest; into a hug. Ever since he'd come back from hell, he'd found it much easier to show his emotions; he didn't want to go back down there regretting not having made it clear how much he loved both his sons again.

For some reasons, luck seemed to be on their side and that alone raised all kind of suspicions between the four hunters; because seriously; since when did things go _their_ way without them having to pay a higher price?

Still, when one morning Dean woke up and he could see more than just shadows, he didn't wait for the doctors to run more tests or to prepare him for getting discharged; he simply walked out of the hospital and went straight back to their motel.

He knocked and once the door opened and Dean actually saw his father standing there, his breath caught in his chest. John, too, was shocked to see his son there; it was pretty much one of the last things he'd expected to find at the door.

"Dad!" And like the past few days hadn't happened, Dean pulled his old man into a fierce hug and held him there until he felt his heartbeat slowed down. Pulling a bit back, he smiled widely, his eyes bright. "Damn, it's good to see you." He gave a watery laugh and pulled him into another hug.

"It's good to be seen, son." John patted his son on the back and this time _he_ pulled back to look Dean in the eye. "And it's damn good to see you on your feet."

Just then John's phone started to ring. It was Sam.

"Let me guess; you didn't bother telling anyone you were leaving, huh?"

Dean's eyes widened. "Shit! Sam was there?"

John shook his head, laughing as he answered his phone. "Sam... Sam! Sammy!" He finally yelled into the phone. "He's here. Calm down. He didn't know you'd spend the night in the hospital." He paused and listened. "Yeah, you tell him that yourself." He hung up with an eye roll.

"Called me a jerk, didn't he?"

"You got it!"

Dean was still staring at him, not taking his eyes off the older man. He felt he was being childish, but for once, he didn't care. He'd missed his dad and had thought he'd never see him again and he blamed himself for it.

"What do you say we get to work?" John suggested, knowing what was going through his son's head.

"Honestly, I'd rather not."

"Dean!"

"Yeah, I know. We've been through this before."

"More than once." John pointed out, sounding a bit reproachful.

Dean sighed, "Can you blame me?"

Shaking his head, John said, "No. But I need you to let go of the guilt. If anything I'm to blame."

"Oh, believe me, I've blamed you, too." Dean smiled mirthlessly. "I hated you for what you did."

John winced. "Yeah, guess I deserved it."

"You sure did." Dean growled and finally sat down behind the table.

"You alright?" John asked worriedly.

"Yeah. Yeah." Dean said, not noticing that he was rubbing his chest.

John didn't believe him but let it go.

"I wanna punch you so bad."

John laughed. "Any way you can let go of that urge?"

Rolling his eyes, Dean pulled Sam's notes towards himself; he loved being able to read those notes; he loved being able to read any notes! "I would've done it the moment you opened the door if I couldn't fight the urge."

"Thanks, I guess."

"You're welcome." Dean smiled and looked up again, his smiles softening when he took in the older man's appearance and then his eyes hardened.

"What?" John asked, a bit worried about what was going on in his son's head.

"You are not going back to Hell!" Dean stated. "And before you start; I'm not saying I can or I'll do something to keep you here; of course I'd do it if there was a way; but since we both know for you to live someone else must die -"

"And you're not going to be that one." John growled, showing he was serious and he wouldn't back down from this one.

"Even though it should've been me in the first place?" Dean asked, sounding bitter and mad.

"I'm still the one who died and it should stay that way. And I don't care what anyone says or how many times you say it, I don't regret what I did." John slammed his hand down against the table's top. "Dammit, Dean! Your whole life, you've sacrificed everything for us; and we've always just taken from you; why can't you understand that I can't lose you? I know I've let you down many times before-"

"Dad!" Dean said brokenly.

"No matter what, I don't regret what I did. I'll do it again."

Swallowing his emotions down, Dean went back to what he was saying before he'd been interrupted, "And it'll still hurt your sons." He muttered.

"I'm sorry, son. I am; but Sam needs you more than he'd ever need me, too. He unders-"

"Now wait a second; a) that's not true; and b) I get it, alright? I just don't think it's worth it." He looked pained and spent.

John winced; he'd never wanted to raise his sons in a way that one of them, his eldest, would think he wasn't worth anyone's sacrifice; but then again, Dean'd pretty much raised himself; John had been absent so many times that Dean'd somehow believed he should be the one making all sacrifices. "If there's one thing you're wrong about; this is it." He stated firmly, but kindly.

"Whatever; you're still not going back to Hell. I'll do whatever it takes to make sure of that."

"As long as it doesn't involve any sort of deals."

"You're one to talk."

"I can't keep repeating myself-"

"Yes, I heard you." Dean shouted. "But guess what, you don't regret that? Well, I won't regret doing whatever it takes to keep you here, either; as long as it doesn't mean some innocent bastard should die instead of one of us."

With that, he got up from the chair and stormed out of the room. As much as he missed his dad, he needed some air because he didn't want to actually punch John and have it be one of their last memories together. Especially since he'd always respected their father so much and had always done anything he could for him.

.

 **... TBC ...**

 **.**

* * *

 _ **A/N: Thanks for reading; let me know what you think.**_

.

 ** _I still own nothing but my mistakes and the plot of my stories._**


	8. Chapter 8

_"I can't keep repeating myself-"_

 _"Yes, I heard you." Dean shouted. "But guess what, you don't regret that? Well, I won't regret doing whatever it takes to keep you here, either; as long as it doesn't mean some innocent bastard should die instead of one of us."_

 _With that, he got up from the chair and stormed out of the room. As much as he missed his dad, he needed some air because he didn't want to actually punch John and have it be one of their last memories together. Especially since he'd always respected their father so much and had always done anything he could for him._

* * *

"O my God! You're alive!"

Dean looked up from the notes in his hands at hearing those words and tilted his head, raising an eyebrow. The boy standing in front of him was one he'd seen behind the counter at their motel once. Turning his head around, Dean looked behind himself, checking to make sure it was him who was being addressed.

"What did you just say?"

"You're alive!"

Narrowing his eyes, Dean put the notebook in his pocket. "And why is that such a wonder?" He usually didn't waste time like this, but in this case, he wanted to give the young boy, who couldn't be older than 14, a chance. Maybe the kid had mistaken him for someone else.

"You're the dude in room 13b."

OK, the kid clearly knew who he was; time to act. In fraction of a second, Dean had moved and grabbed the boy with the front of his shirt, lifting him up from where he was standing; he was almost one foot taller than the boy and despite just having come back from death's door less than a day ago, he was a strong man.

The boy opened his mouth to shout, but Dean slammed him against a car that was parked there and put a hand over his mouth. "Open your mouth and I'll kill you." He, of course, would never do that, but the threat would scare the boy enough to talk.

The menacing look in his eyes did the job and the boy paled before nodding frantically.

"Good! Now I'll ask you questions and you're gonna answer like a good little boy. That clear?"

Another nod.

"Why were you thinking I should be dead?" Cautiously, Dean moved his hand away.

"I... I-"

"Just talk; dammit!" Dean growled.

"He said you wouldn't be in this world long!"

"Who?" Dean frowned. "Tell me everything and start from the beginning!"

"Could you... Could you put me down?"

The look of fear in the boy's eyes made Dean roll his eyes before putting him down; still, he didn't let go of his shirt.

"Talk! Now!"

"I swear to God, man! I don't know nothing!"

"Yeah? That why you were so shocked to see me alive?"

"It's just what he said!"

"He who?" Dean's glare was getting scarier by the second.

"I... The night- he said... Said the taller one may get what he wished for."

"I said from the beginning. You wanna live to see tomorrow? Start from the beginning and for crying out loud speak like a human being!"

The boy swallowed hard and looked around; but there was no one to help him; so he just nodded.

"Go on."

"I was there when you and your friend were fighting in your room. I... I was coming over to give you the clean sheets you've asked for."

"And?"

"And I saw Mr. Keiser there and he was just standing there; no! He was leaning; yes, he was leaning against that pole and when he saw me he motioned for me to go to him. Then... Then you stormed out of your room and left and Mr. Keiser just smiled and he'd never smiled like that; it was kinda scary but-"

"Wait a second, who the hell is Keiser?"

"Oh, the motel manager."

"The short, skinny dude?"

"Yes! Yes, that's him!"

"OK, go on."

"He said he'll get his wish. I asked him what? He said your friend wanted you gone and someone else back and he'll get his wish. It's freakish if you ask me, because it's weird that he'd even heard you and knew what your friend had wished for."

"And you just believed him?"

"Sure. He's done that before. When he smirks, I always believe him and this time his smirk was even creepier."

"And that's it?"

"He said you'll be dead by next week. I swear that's why I couldn't believe my eyes when I saw you; because this'd be the first time that he's predicted something and it hasn't come true."

"And where is this Mr. Keiser now?"

"I... I don't know. He should be back around 7. That's when he comes back every night."

"OK, then."

"OK? So I can go?"

"Oh, you're not going anywhere."

"What? But I told you everything I knew and you just said OK."

"We'll see about that." With that, Dean took a knife out of his back pocket and opened it with a flick of a finger; he'd never intended to hurt the boy, but that boy didn't know it and like the way it'd made him talk, it'd make him keep cooperating.

At the sight of the blade, the kid quietly started to walk and without a peep, did everything Dean told him to do until they got back to Dean's room.

"Dean!" Sam sounded horrified when Dean barged into their room, pushing the young boy inside. "What's this?"

John, too, jumped to his feet and stood in front of the wall that had maps and pictures pinned to it; he wasn't sure what the hell Dean was thinking bringing that kid to their room; oh, he knew his son must've had a good reason, but whatever it was, he shou-... His thoughts came to an abrupt halt with what Dean said then.

"Solution to our mystery." Dean announced coolly.

"You mean?" Sam eyed the boy and the stared at Dean.

"Yup."

"That can't be!"

"Ask 'im." Dean shrugged.

"But he's just-"

John rolled his eyes. "Boys!"

"Seriously." Dean's eyes were once again on the boy who was now sitting on one of the beds, looking terrified out of his mind. "Should've seen him when he saw me and asked me how I could still be alive."

Both John and Sam turned to the boy and their own eyes hardened. Like the glare from one of those huge men wasn't scary enough? Now the three of them had to look at him that way? He was so screwed!

Just then there was a knock on the door and as John grabbed his colt, causing the boy to lose even more color; however, Dean stopped his father, "It's Bobby. I called him on my way back and he was close already." He said and opened the door to let their friend in.

"That him?" Bobby asked as he entered the room.

The boy couldn't take it anymore. Him alone in a room with four scary, gruff men? He opened his mouth to shout but suddenly a hand was on his shoulder, clutching it hard. "Make a sound and I'll finish you right here and right now." John growled menacingly. "Now! What the hell are you?"

"Dad!" Dean called before the boy could ask what the hell the older man meant by _what_ he was. "He's just a boy. I checked."

"Then what?" John was lost.

"He just knows the bastard who did this." Dean shrugged. "Listen to his story."

The boy, terrified for his life, recounted his story one more time, this time even less sure that he hadn't landed himself between some psychopaths.

"Dammit! I've seen that bastard at least 10 times this past week." Sam sounded frustrated. "This is all my fault."

"Sam!" Dean warned him, "Not your fault. You hear me?"

John didn't agree, but he kept his mouth shut; knowing that when it came to Sam, Dean wouldn't hesitate to put even him in his place.

"What's important now is to catch that frigging thing and reverse whatever he's done."

"Not reverse!" Dean stated firmly.

"Dean; if it's not fixed, in less than a week, you'll be back where you just left." Bobby reasoned, referring to the hospital bed that Dean had just gotten out of.

Taking a deep breath to calm himself, Dean looked at the older man. "I'm just saying whatever this thing is-"

"Why do you guys keep saying it like Mr. Keiser is not human?" The boy couldn't keep quiet anymore.

"Because he's not." They all said at the same time and like they instantly forgot he was there again, they went back to their own discussion.

"Whatever it is, it's powerful enough to haul Dad's ass outta Hell and send me back to the hospital with injuries that I fully recovered from 7 months ago."

"OK. And?" Sam frowned.

"And don't you think with that kind of power he might be able to fix things?"

"Fix things?"

"Like keeping me this way and keeping Dad here."

"Son, we both know that can't happen."

" _I_ don't know." Dean shook his head and shrugged; excluding himself from the ' _we_ ' John had mentioned. " _We_ don't know. I mean we used to think Vamps were extinct. We used to think you were in Hell and there was no way to get you out of it. We used to think many things. Maybe there _is_ a way."

The others remained quiet; Sam because he silently hoped Dean was right, and because that did make sense; John because Dean had a point and even though he was sure it wasn't possible to stay alive and with his boys, they actually had no idea what that thing was and how powerful it was; so maybe... Just maybe something could be done. And Bobby because he didn't want to burst their bubbles and well, because even he wasn't sure of anything anymore.

"We good? OK then; let's get ready to hunt down some hotel manager. Huh?" Dean said cheerfully and went to the boy to haul him up and then pushed him towards a chair. "Sam, go grab some ropes from the trunk. We gotta keep this little shit a little bit longer with us. Don't worry, kid; you'll be free to go once we're done breaking the spell or whatever it is your boss has put on us."

The boy now had no doubt that these people were psychopath serial killers; because hunt? _Thing_? Spell? And OMG, Hell? The actual, real Hell? They were _lunatics_. He just hoped that they'd keep their words and let him go once they were done with Mr. Keiser. He'd never liked the man anyway. He was kinda weird and did all sort of odd things; besides, he had a very sick sense of humor that made him shiver sometimes. So who cared if he died? As long as he got to get away from these people and leave this side of town for good!

.

 **... TBC ...**

 **.**

* * *

 _ **.**_

.

 ** _I still own nothing but my mistakes and the plot of my stories._**


	9. Chapter 9

"Name's Trickster." Mr. Keiser smiled brightly at them; he was tied to a chair in the middle of the Winchester's room and seemed totally unfazed.

Capturing him had been suspiciously easy; too easy, in fact.

All four men had walked to his office and barged in, carrying all sorts of weapon with them, hidden under their jackets.

Keiser had just taken one look at Dean and said, "You're alive!"

"No thanks to you, bastard." Dean had growled, before saying, "Now you better get up and come with us if you don't want us to turn your to dust right here and right now." That was a bluff, of course, because they didn't know what they were dealing with and that meant they didn't _know_ what killed this thing for sure and since they had no clue what to look for and no time to keep digging, for once, they'd all gone in blind.

"Should've paid more attention to the result of my works, I guess." He sighed dramatically and got up. "Alright. Let's go." He clapped his hands and cordially let them usher him out of his office and into their room.

So yes, something was very wrong with that situation and how easy things had developed.

And now; now he was tied to a chair, willingly telling them what kind of creature it was and he was so relaxed that all the hunters knew they had no way of controlling him and if he was there, it was because he _wanted_ to be there, not because he was forced to.

Bobby cursed when he heard what the thing had said. He'd heard of tricksters; they were one of the worst sons of bitches that hunters would go after, and they sure didn't have the right weapon to off him at that moment and in that room.

"That's right, you can't kill me with those toys." The man laughed joyfully. "But I'm game if you are."

"You bastard; you think this is a game?" Dean punched him in the face, but the thing just shook his head and smiled.

"Aww, Dean. _Every_ thing is a game."

John cocked his gun and put it on the man's forehead.

"Just told you it won't kill me." The thing rolled his eyes.

"But I bet it'll hurt like a bitch." John replied easily before pulling the trigger.

From the corner of the room, the young boy, still tied and gagged, screamed; his voice muffled by the piece of cloth pushed into his mouth.

Sam shouted, too. "What the hell, Dad? We need him!"

"What? He said it won't kill him."

"What if he'd lied?"

"Then the world would have one less monster in it."

The boy thought he was going to wet himself; no, correction, he already _had_ wet himself. Because Keiser had just been shot in the head and the only thing that happened was that he'd stopped smiling and was just growling angrily under his breath.

"I hate the smell of blood. You're no fun." Keiser muttered indignantly.

"Not here for your stupid games." John growled again.

"Well, I don't have to be here at all." Trickster rolled his eyes and in a blink of an eye, he was out of the chair and his ropes.

"Son of a Bitch!"

"Couldn't control your temper one more hour, could you, Winchester?" Bobby threw his hands in the air.

John growled, "How was I supposed to-"

"Hey, hey! Don't fight. I'm still here." The voice came from behind them; the thing was leaning against the wall and had a candy in his mouth. "Knew you'd miss me; couldn't leave my playmates without a parting gift; now could I?"

The room's air was heavy; none of the hunters knew what to say.

"You clearly have the power to bring him back from death," Dean spoke up first, pointing to his father with his head. "What will it cost us to keep things this way? You've changed things once."

"Oh, it happened because Sammy wished for it really bad. I _had_ to give him something." He replied innocently with his eyes wide and the corners of his mouth turned down, like he'd been heartbroken at hearing a wish that no one but him would grant and so he'd acted to make the boy happy.

"Cut the crap, asshole; it has nothing to do with my brother; you saw an opportunity to play a sick game and you took it." Dean snarled; not wanting for his brother to think this was his fault again.

Rolling his eyes, the man huffed; "You got me."

"So? What's the price?"

"Your life." He smiled brightly.

"Like Hell." John braked and was about to attack the thing again when Bobby got in his way and held him back.

"Drama queens." The Trickster rolled his eyes. "Fine! I was playing a game and now I'm bored. Tell me what you want."

"Undo it." John demanded.

"No!" Dean snapped.

"Dean;" Sam said, sounding unsure.

"No, Sam. He's powerful. There must be a way."

"To keep him _and_ you alive? No." The man licked his candy. "Well, there _is_ a way, of course, but God wouldn't approve and then he would notice me and I don't want that kinda attention on me."

"God? Really? That's your excuse?" Dean mocked.

"You kill monsters every day and you still don't believe in God?"

"Oh, I believe he exists; I just don't believe he gives a crap anymore about anything."

"You'd be surprised."

"More like _you_ would be."

"I'm the powerful one here. I say _you_ would be."

"Hey; enough." Bobby barked.

"What? He started it." The shortest man in the room pouted.

"Back to the topic." Bobby ordered.

"I told you; no way to save them both. You can choose who dies, though."

"ME!" John and Dean exclaimed at the same time.

Sam felt like he was falling into a dark pit; he felt if he hadn't said those things, none of this would've happened. And now if dad died again, Dean would, once again, go through that pain he suffered from the first few months of dad being gone and if Dean died... No! Sam couldn't even think about that.

"Humans." Trickster huffed. "Always so willing and ready to sacrifice yourself for the others. What's wrong with you guys?"

"You would never understand." Dean said, his tone showing his disgust.

This time, the Trickster looked actually hurt; he straightened up and squared his shoulders. "You know _nothing_ about me."

"Well, you clearly know nothing about family and feelings, either; so who cares if we don't know shit about you? You're _nothing_." Dean spat.

The thing stared at him for long seconds; no one in the room could do anything. At last, the shorter man smiled. "I like you, Dean."

"The feeling is so not mutual." Dean deadpanned.

Chuckling, the pseudo-manager shook his head. "We'll see about that. But for now, I'm gonna do you a favor."

"No need for that. Just fix your mess and I won't kill you."

"Like you can kill me. Please!" The thing rolled his eyes for the umpteenth times.

"Since you both want to die-"

"No!" Sam shouted; scared that he'd take both his father and his brother from him.

"Relax, Sammy! Let me finish." He chastised. "As I was saying, since you're both so willing to die and only one of you gets to live; I'll send the one who was already dead-"

"No!" This time it was Dean who interrupted him.

"Dean." His father's tone was calm and accepting.

"No, Dad." Dean looked at his father, the anguish in his eyes hurting John more than years of hell did.

"What's with you humans not letting me even finish!" The Trickster yelled impatiently; he snapped his fingers and then everyone in the room was restricted by ropes and had duct tape over their mouths. "Much better. So, what was I saying?" He paused and looked them each in the eye before continuing, "Right; here's the deal and I'm feeling very generous today and I meant it when I said I liked Dean. So, I'll send John back, but not to Hell. Just to death."

When all he got was surprised looks, he rolled his eyes. "Ugh, I don't like it when you can't open your mouth to thank me." He snapped his fingers one more time and they were free again.

"You..." John felt dread and hope at the same time. "No Hell?"

"You can do that?"

"I can do that." He smiled and wiggled his eyebrows. "I gotta go now, though; so, bye bye, Daddy Winchester."

Dean and Sam both quickly turned to their father, hoping to get to say something before they lost their father again; John, too, looked at his boys and just had enough time to say, "I love you boys." Before the temperature in the room changed and suddenly he was dropping and moving upward at the same time.

Dean reached out to grab him, but pain hit him so hard and he lost his balance, too and a second later, he was on the floor; unconscious.

.

.

.

"He's waking up." Sam's voice penetrated the fog that was suffocating Dean. "Hey, man! Dean? Can you hear me?"

Opening his eyes, Dean stared at the blurred version of his brother's face, hovering over him; a second later, everything about the last few days rushed back to his head. "Dad!" He sat up quickly and right that moment, he thought he'd pass out again from the pain in his chest.

"Heeey! Slow down." This time it was Bobby who was talking to him. "Deep breathes."

"What happened?" He forced the words out; the need to get answers was way stronger than the need to succumb to pain and pass out.

"Your heart stopped. Again." Sam's voice was hard, but the pain in his voice and in his eyes when Dean looked at him was too obvious to miss.

"What? Why?"

"Don't know, man. One last trick? The residual of the last one that we'd just managed to push away? I don't know." Sam had bags under his eyes, the telltale of him having not slept for a very long time.

"You OK?" Dean asked worriedly.

Sam huffed, shook his head and walked out of room.

"Give him some time. He thought he was going to lose you, too." Bobby said soothingly when he saw the hurt wash over Dean's face at the way his brother had behaved.

"What happened, Bobby?"

"All I know is that we were all standing there one minute and the next both you and your father had collapsed. And then... Then John's body was gone, too."

"He's gone." Dean whispered. "Again."

"Hey, at least he's gone to heaven." The old man tried to placate.

"How do you know?"

"Oh, I don't know, maybe because we watched as a tunnel opened heavenward and light came through it and then your father disappeared through it like the thing we see with the ghosts who are finally free of their pain?"

Dean studied him and then shook his head; "I hope it hadn't been another trick."

"I don't think it was; after what he put you all through, I think this was actually his way of apologizing."

"Like monsters apologize."

"That's the thing; I don't think he was a monster."

Dean snorted.

"Really. I think he just has a creepy sense of humor. Oh, I wouldn't mind kicking his sorry ass; but as far as monsters go, this one wasn't one."

Shrugging, Dean had to concede; because if that had been real and his father had been freed from Hell's tortures, then he could settle for the not-monster title.

"So I just had another heart attack?"

"You haven't recovered completely yet."

"Didn't that Trickster... like, I don't know, reverse things? I'd say that means I should magically recover instead of dying."

"Well, you _have_ recovered." Bobby shrugged. "But apparently you had to finish what had started days ago normally."

"So, nothing's wrong with me?"

"Well, you did need CPR and you were sleeping for the last day. But all your scans are clear now. The doctors think you should take it easy because your heart muscle must've been damaged after what happened to you last time;" The look of terror in Dean's eyes, made Bobby retreat quickly, "That's just the doctors. We know better."

"Sam can't take it anymore."

Trust Dean to be worried for Sam instead of his own health.

"You're fine, Dean." Bobby reassured him. "And as long as you remain that way, Sam will be fine, too."

Outside, behind the window, a man stood and listened to the conversation; smiling, he licked his candy before snapping his fingers one more time before disappearing.

None of these hunters would remember his face or his name or even his _presence_. All they'd remember from this particular incident would be a creature playing with them and at the end freeing their father from his deal with the dark side; their encounter with the Trickster was now wiped from their memories and if they saw him again, they wouldn't recognize him or his signs.

They so didn't need to remember him; that way he could play with them again later.

And certainly, neither those hunters, nor anyone -or any _thing_ \- else in the world needed to know that now an archangel had done the Winchesters a favor because Dean's words and actions had impressed him, reminding him of his own family.

He'd meant it when he said he liked Dean.

.

 **... The End...**

 **.**

* * *

 _ **A/N: OK, this is it. Thanks for your support, everyone.**_

.

 ** _I still own nothing but my mistakes and the plot of my stories._**


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